


When We Get Down To It

by gipnib



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (we stan a healthy bitch), Cisco is a good boyfriend, Cisco knows how tf emotions work, Communication, Emotionally Constipated Harry Wells, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, ft. harry's ambiguous backstory, so uhhh I guess this is a character study huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gipnib/pseuds/gipnib
Summary: Nobody liked pain, least of all Cisco Ramon. So, naturally, he had long since become familiar with the process of healing from it. Problem was, Harry wasn’t so familiar with that process and Harry was having nightmares. (Alternatively: Cisco teaching Harry some healthier ways to deal with pain.)





	When We Get Down To It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stars_n_space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_n_space/gifts).



> probably shouldn't have taken me 2k words to illustrate a coping mechanism but oh well 
> 
> (Happy Birthday, Matty!!!)

Nobody liked pain, least of all Cisco Ramon.

Physical hurt he was fine with but anything beyond that was too much. It frustrated him that he was so susceptible to it. Pain stole his breath and made his heart ache and, sometimes, he felt like he would implode from it. So of course, he’d been told to “suck it up” quite a few times. The problem was that, more often than not, “sucking it up” directly translated to “trying to forget about it,” simply because he _couldn’t_ “suck it up.” He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Because _every single time_ it hurt like hell, and there was never the bitter rush of anger to numb it. He’d never been able to draw strength from pain. He wasn’t wired that way.

So he learned to draw strength from the more gentle things: the things that made him happy and the things that blurred life’s edges into something soft and pleasant. He reminded himself of the agreeable bits of life in effort to let the pain pass through him without hurting too much. That is not to say that Cisco did not encounter hurt, for he encountered plenty, each bit of it knocking the wind out of him. But, hey, he could deal. He could wash out the vision-clouding pain with the reference point of happiness and then tackle the problem, grounded in reality. It had taken him a while to learn, and for a while he’d kept slipping into trying to out-logic feeling itself, but it was something that he could now be proud of.

That logically framing the problem so that he could tackle it was his coping mechanism didn’t become a problem until a few months into his relationship with Harry.

Because before then, he’d had the ability to fix what was hurting him without too much extra hurt. But now? He was at an impasse. He couldn’t do anything _but_ hurt. Because Harry had been having nightmares and he wouldn’t admit it to Cisco. He’d told Cisco about his traumas and he’d mentioned that they “used to” give him nightmares, but he steadfastly refused to say anything about it still being an issue.

On some level, it was insulting that Harry genuinely thought that Cisco wasn’t noticing anything beyond the obvious. For chrissakes, they slept in the same bed! And Harry was just _brushing off_ Cisco’s worried questions! And that hurt a little bit. There was a little bit of pain there.

But there was so much more pain in waking up to Harry’s broken whimpers and feeling his own heart drop down into his gut. There was so much more pain in Harry choking out every “I’m fine,” especially when doing so obviously pained him at least as much as it did Cisco. There was so much more pain in the fact that Harry wasn’t letting Cisco help him alleviate his own hurting. Because seeing Harry hurt made _Cisco_ hurt - cliche as it sounded - but, in the end, it was Harry’s choice to share or not. And Harry was choosing not to share.

Which was totally fine.

Or rather, which _should_ have been totally fine, except for the part of it where the pain wasn’t quitting Cisco and whatever happinesses were strong enough to give him perspective still couldn’t actually fix the problem. Only he could do that.

The inside of his head was beginning to sound like a creative writing project written by a twelve year-old with a limited vocabulary, a strong liking for decisively artistic repetition, and a general dislike for writing lengthy pieces. There were other thoughts, sure, but pain, the word “pain,” was beginning to take over the transcript.

Pain.

Hurt.

Harry.

Pain.

Nightmares.

Pain.

Selfish?

Pain.

 _Pain_.

 **_Pain_**.

He saw pain and he felt pain and he tasted pain and he smelt pain. It was invading his head and his comfort-seeking habits alone weren’t enough to fix the root of the problem.

So yeah. Cisco had known that he’d have to talk to Harry about it for a while now. He had to do it, no matter how badly he wanted to stay out of it (because, really, he had a hard time convincing himself that he had any right at all to involve himself in it.)

He did it when Harry was sitting slumped in their bed, blanket at his waist and naked shoulders just barely visible in the dark. His chest was rising and falling in calm, probably over-controlled movements, and a shudder crept into his breath on every other exhale. A squinting glance towards his dim Star Wars alarm clock told Cisco that it was 5:32AM. He groggily propped himself up on his elbows as he tried to place things. It was 5:32AM. Harry was awake. Harry might be in shock.

It was 5:32AM and Harry had woken up early from a nightmare for the fourth time this week.

“Harry?” he whispered, trying to make sure that Harry wasn’t lost somewhere in his head. Harry didn’t jerk in shock but Cisco was able to read the stutter in his breathing as surprise. A little bit of the clench in his stomach released as Cisco realized that Harry was in reality.

“Yeah?” The other man’s voice was quiet, hoarse.

Cisco reached out to fumble over the smooth, plastic top of his alarm clock, finding the right edge and allowing his fingers to skim three buttons to the left before pressing down with a muffled click. The display screen brightened. “What did you dream about?”

Harry’s monotone, “Nothing,” made Cisco set his jaw in welling frustration. He took a deep breath.

“Harry,” he began, slow, “you and I both know that I know that’s not the case. I’ve been content-” ‘ _and maybe complacent,_ ’ he reflected internally, “- to think that you could work this out on your own, but…”

Harry didn’t cut in and Cisco didn’t finish. After a long pause, Harry said, “You think I’m not working it out?” He sounded offended, but the exhaustion that weighed down his tone told Cisco that his offense was more of a token resistance than anything else.

“Yes,” Cisco answered simply. There was a moment of quiet and Cisco stifled a yawn, blinking blearily and thinking to himself that he wished he was more awake for this conversation. “Not that I think you’re _trying_ to have nightmares. Just… your tactic is avoidance, most of time, you know? Avoidance isn’t gonna work with whatever problems you’re having. I know that it’s your business and all,” Cisco rushed on, worried that Harry would complain that he was being too nosy, “but I don’t like seeing you in pain, Harry, and you’ve seemed to be in a lot of it lately. If you would accept a little bit of help from me, that would really mean a lot, and maybe it would get rid of some of it all.”

“Okay.”

Cisco was stunned silent for a few seconds. In the past, Harry had always been resistant to fault to kindness. That he had accepted Cisco’s offer so easily was a testament as to how worn down Harry was by whatever was plaguing him. How absolutely exhausted he must be. A tinge of pain ached in Cisco’s stomach but he focused the relief he found in the fact that _maybe he could help Harry feel better_. “Okay,” Cisco said faintly.

“Okay,” Harry echoed.

“Thank you,” Cisco said, not sure what else to say. He was suddenly very aware that he didn’t have a clue where to go from here. All of his planning had been centered around trying to get Harry to accept his help. Luckily, Harry took initiative first.

“How do you expect to help?”

Cisco shrugged. Well, at least he knew how to answer a question. “Advice. Listening. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.” His voice was quiet and earnest in the dark room.

“So, then…” Harry drew in a deep breath. “How are you so happy?”

Cisco didn’t answer immediately. “What?”

“How are you so happy?” Harry repeated. “It’s not like bad things doesn’t affect you, because they certainly do.”

Cisco huffed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“So how do you cope with it?” Harry pressed on. “I see you go through so much and it definitely hurts you. I can see that much. But you’re still so _happy_. You're always able to fix it. Why!?” His words were verging on pleading.

“I-” Cisco folded his hands in his lap, “- you’re probably gonna think that this is a funny way of putting it, but I wash it out. The ache part of it.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew together a little and Cisco could tell that he was trying to discern a bit more literal meaning from Cisco’s words. “‘Wash it out?’ Like with photographic exposure or like with laundry?”

Cisco shrugged. “Maybe both? I don't know, man, it’s terminology that I really only use in my head. I just… I take the sad things and dump on happy things to try to create a bit of a reference, you know? Then, when I can see the entire spectrum of feeling, I try to do something about it.”

Harry was quiet for a few moments. “That doesn’t seem like it should work.”

“All I know that it functions and that there’s very little emotional suppression involved and you have to register everything, so it’s probably healthier than trying to ignore it.” When Cisco fell silent, Harry didn’t respond immediately.

“Do you think I ignore it?” he said, eventually.

“Do you?” Cisco asked.

Harry didn’t answer. He laid back down with a punched-out sigh, and Cisco scooted over a bit, rearranging the heavy comforter so that he could press up against Harry and lay down beside him.

“So, how do I get the happiness?” Harry said.

Harry was a sporadic person who dealt most often in extremes only, Cisco reflected. One moment he could be moping in an armchair, the next he could be creeping up behind Cisco with a gentle smile and sliding his arms around his waist. So the best way to explain it was probably- “Do you ever have those moments,” he began, “where you’re just so damn _content_? Like, you’re happy, sure, but more so, you’re just so _satisfied_. Forcefully. Aggressively. You’re aggressively okay.”

Harry snorted at the description and Cisco could feel his nod through the pillow.

“It’s that. That’s the happiness!” Cisco said urgently. He wanted Harry to understand it.

“So when I’m… not happy. When I’m-”

“- scared, depressed, angry, negative, disenchanted with life, frustrated,” Cisco supplied.

Harry nodded again, grudging. “When I’m that, I should try to get that aggressively okay feeling?”

“Sorta.” Cisco rolled over, resting his cheek against Harry’s cool, bare shoulder and looking up at his face. His alarm clock’s display was just bright enough that he could see the other man’s profile in relief against the surrounding darkness, his cheekbones, brow, and jaw dimly visible with gentle reddish illumination.

“Sorta?” Harry prompted, maybe a little impatient. Cisco snapped back to their conversation with the realization that his mind had wandered. He closed his eyes, exhaling as he re-focused.

“It’s more remembering and acknowledging that how you’re feeling now is as important as how you felt then. It’s still there and you still have to feel it, but you have to feel the entire spectrum too. You have to see that you’re like some Newton’s cradle that’s just yo-yoing back and forth, just with a bit more unpredictability. Then, once you realize that, you can see the big picture instead of whatever component of the cradle is in obvious kinetic action. You can keep how you’re feeling in perspective and tackle whatever deeper issue there is without your vision of the problem being completely obstructed. It still hurts, obviously, but you can absolve some of the pain by remembering that it’s only center-stage in that moment. You permit the mind-killer to pass over you and through you by keeping perspective.”

Harry snorted in amusement. “Did you just reference Dune?”

“It’s a good movie and you know it. Also, they made valid points.”

“Either way. That method sounds… dispassionate.”

“Nope,” Cisco said quickly. “Don’t get that in your head, dude. Maybe you react a little more dispassionately but _you’re_ definitely not dispassionate for it. You feel everything and so you’re kinda forced to see everything and _that’s_ what makes not reacting easier.”

“That’s weird. I knew you were weird.” Behind the mostly joking mockery, Harry sounded small.

“It’s a lot to get used to at first,” Cisco sympathized. “And it’s easy to slip into trying to out-logic emotions, which you have to be careful not to do. But if you can manage it or adopt it to suit you, I swear, it helps.”

Harry didn’t respond, the blanket rising as he inhaled deeply.

“In this case,” Cisco prompted quietly, “the mind-killer you have to let through you… it’s what’s causing you pain. Shame. Anger. Whatever it is. Remember the opposite feeling and look at the situation from a grounded perspective. How can you stop the hurting and regain equilibrium?”

Harry didn’t talk and Cisco began to worry that he’d gone too far, that he’d let his suggestions become orders. Just before he opened his mouth to try to remedy the situation, Harry spoke. “My pain - my _mind-killer_ -” Cisco could hear the bitter amusement in his voice, “- is a mix of... something. Anger. Frustration. Frustration with myself.”

“Self-reproach,” Cisco supplied.

“Self-reproach,” Harry echoed. “But I’ve been shameless before. I’ve been content with myself. I haven’t cared before.”

“Your opposite feeling,” Cisco said, a small smile creeping to his lips as he led Harry through the procedure. “Your self-reproach is just one end of a spectrum.”

“The other end is contentedness.” Harry’s continuation was seamless and Cisco’s small smile became a beam. “That’s my spectrum. And my goal is to move closer to equilibrium. I’m trying to stop feeling the self-reproach.”

“And to do that, you have to address what’s causing the self-reproach.” Cisco could practically _hear_ Harry’s brain working.

“It’s that I’m ashamed of having the nightmares still.” Harry stopped suddenly, as if surprised by himself. Then he said it again, tone wondering. That he could bypass the denial when he was examining his shame rather than defending its logic seemed to be a shock to him. “Haven’t said that out loud before,” he admitted.

“The process makes it easier to acknowledge things, I think,” Cisco offered. “Now you have your problem. Now you know why you feel the way you do. Now you can work through it. See?”

“Shit.”

Cisco laughed at the suddenness of the exclamation. “Yeah. It’s weird, huh? First time I did it, I thought that I’d managed to trick myself.”

Harry’s chest shook slightly as he chuckled. “I’m getting coffee,” he declared. “This is something I need to think about.” As he pulled back the covers and sat up, he shot a glance over his shoulder. Cisco met his gaze with a smile. “There’s that gross chai coffee creamer you like in the fridge.”

Cisco grinned, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. "Okay, I'm coming."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> (I appreciate all kudos and comments I get!)


End file.
